


Maybe, Part 2

by sunflower1343



Series: Maybe [2]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/pseuds/sunflower1343
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feilong learns to like yellow-headed men just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe, Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> This is the follow-up to Maybe part one, written quite a long time after. I've tried any number of times to write a third part, and it's never been what I wanted. Maybe someday, but I think they're too far from what I originally wrote to make it work now. Written February 2007.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday, 8:00 am.

His head felt like a truck had backed up over it, and was still parked there. Running. With the muffler directly over his ears.

"Good morning, Master Fei! Here is your tea, and the paper, and some lovely roses."

"Tao, shut the drapes, and stop smiling so blindingly. For the next few hours, I will kill anyone who brings light into this room."

Tao looked stricken. "Is Master Fei ill? Shall I call a doctor?"

"Shh. Just aspirin, and tea, and silence. Tao what are all those flowers?"

"Four dozen roses, delivered first thing this morning! Someone must really like you. There's a card somewhere..." The small hand plucked it out from among the stems. "Shall I read it to you?"

Memories of the night before came flooding back. He sat up abruptly and immediately regretted doing so. "NO! I mean, that will not be necessary. Thank you. Just get the tea. And the painkillers. Note the plural. That's all. Thank you."

Tao handed him the card with a strange look, then scampered out of the room.

Feilong closed his eyes because the room was spinning and his head was pounding and his stomach was nauseous, and that was just from remembering what he'd said the night before. He gingerly opened the card. 

_They pale beside you in beauty, but perhaps they'll remind you a little of me. A dozen for each day remaining until I see you again._

_Mikhail_

 

He felt himself blush, then anger rolled over him. To treat him like a woman. What had he been thinking last night? He threw the vase of flowers into the trash, where they lay slightly smashed, looking a little sad. 

He swallowed. They _had_ been beautiful. Had Mikhail known he loved roses? He reached down and pulled one from the wreckage and held it to his nose. The scent reminded him of peaceful times in his garden and eased the ache in his head. He brushed the flower across his lips. The petals were so soft. His thoughts drifted back to happier moments as he lay back onto his pillows, and his body relaxed among the memories.

 

When Tao returned with the aspirin, Master Fei had fallen asleep again. He glanced at the wreckage in the trash and sighed sadly, but when he walked to the other side of the bed he felt a glimmer of hope. Master Fei was holding one of the rose stems tightly in his grasp, the petals near his face.

 

\--

 

Thursday, 12:30 pm

 

"Tao, tell the cook lunch was delicious. Those strawberries were exquisite."

"They were a special delivery for you, Master Fei. There was a card. Would you like to read it?"

Feilong sighed. That idiot. Plying him with more gifts. As if he wanted them. The memory of waking rested yesterday with rose in hand was pushed aside. He'd been hung over. What could one expect? Today, he was sober and not the least maudlin.

Still, the strawberries had been lovely. 

He reluctantly opened the note.

 

_Thirty-six perfect berries. A dozen for each day remaining. I'm thinking of their juice on your lips._

_Mikhail_

 

He gasped. Of all the blatant...!

He snatched up the linen napkin and scrubbed his mouth. He'd show him.

"Tao. Give the rest of these to Akihito. Tell him they're a gift for his helping you."

Tao picked up the bowl, seeming a little sad. 

"Tao? What is wrong? Would you like some too?"

"No, Master Fei. I just wish you could have enjoyed more of them. They seemed to make you so happy. At least until you read the note. Are you sure you won't have one more?"

"Would that please you?"

Tao smiled brightly.

"You're such a child. Very well. Now take the rest to Akihito." 

Tao nodded and ran off.

Feilong held the fruit under his nose. It was perfectly ripe, and the scent was of fresh fruit warm under the sun. He bit into the end and the sweetness exploded into his mouth. He moaned involuntarily. So good. Juice ran down his chin and he captured it with a finger and licked it clean. He greedily nibbled the berry down to its stem. Why had he given the rest away? He could always force the source of them from Mikhail's lips. His red lips, berry lips... Enough!

He drank some of the cold tea left from lunch and grimaced. That was better. There was no time for such nonsense.

 

But when Akihito waited on him at dinner, he made the boy nervous by constantly glancing at his mouth. The boy never imagined that it was only the scent of berries that drew the stares.

 

\--

 

Friday, 4:00 pm.

 

The week was over. Thank God. And no gift from Mikhail. Despite his annoyance, he was slightly disappointed. He'd thought the man would try harder.

"Master Fei?"

He turned from the window where he'd been gazing out across the bay. "Yes Tao?"

Tao held out an ebony box a little over a foot in length, and about as wide. "This just arrived."

His heart thudded. "Thank you Tao. You may leave it there." He gestured at his desk. "And I don't wish to be disturbed before dinner."

"Yes, Master." The boy obeyed, and left quietly.

Feilong slowly walked to the desk and looked down.

_This couldn't be..._

His fingers brushed across the surface of the smooth wood that had been worn by many hands over the ages. They trembled as he worked the lock open. His legs gave way as the box opened to reveal the treasure within.

Some would think it was a mere book. Collectors knew better. He opened his desk drawer and drew out some white cotton gloves. Once on, he felt safe reaching into the box and opening the cover. 

He gasped at the beauty within. Twenty-four exquisite prints, all highly erotic, each accompanied by a poem. The book had been composed by a concubine of the Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang dynasty. Her name had been lost in time, but her work had been rumored to live on, passing secretly from collector to collector through the years. There had been a report it had left the country across the Western borders and gone into Russia. That must have been true.

_What must this have cost him?_ He knew the price wouldn't have simply been money. 

He was moved. This required a response.

He set the book aside and stared at his phone. The number was in his address book.

A moment later: "This is Arbatov."

"Mikhail Arbatov. You can't mean to have given this to me. It's priceless."

"Its worth to me is nothing next to yours."

He felt himself blushing yet again. The voice on the phone softened. "You like it, then?"

His answer was enthusiastic. "How could I not? Only a philistine would dislike such a gift. It's magnificent!"

"I haven't your knowledge of books, but even I appreciated the artwork. And I took some pleasure in imagining you in a number of the poses within."

That snapped him out of his reverie. "You! You always have to ruin things with innuendo. This work is –"

"Very stimulating and something to be read with one's lover. I bought it in anticipation of doing so someday."

He had to admit, the book had brought several erotic visions to mind, some of them even involving a fuzzy yellow head. But he wasn't about to admit that. 

"I said I'd go out with you. I didn't say anything about anything more."

"You implied –"

"If your date impresses me, and I seriously doubt that it will, but _if_ it does, perhaps I may let you... oh...."

"You'll... let me? Let me what?" 

Mikhail's voice no longer seemed playful. He shrugged it off. "I'll let you hold my hand. And I'd even take my glove off." 

"Hold your hand. Is that a fact? Let me tell you something, Liu Feilong. You'll be taking off a lot more than that by the time I'm through with you. I'm going to woo you with every inch of my body, so that you feel it down to your core, so that you start to burn the way I do. And then, Feilong, the only thing that will satisfy you is me. Not holding hands, not just kissing, but naked, face to face in my bed, filling each other because nothing else gets rid of the emptiness."

Mikhail's voice broke off abruptly. But Feilong had heard the harsh notes of desperation and loneliness at the end. It shocked him into courtesy, and honesty.

"We will see, Mikhail. I'm not afraid, if it's truly meant to be. But I won't be pushed into anything that feels wrong."

The other had regained his composure. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

"Then we understand one another. Until tomorrow."

"I'm counting the hours."

He hung up, and closed his eyes. Mikhail always seemed so frivolous. He hadn't been prepared to see him as more. But what he'd said, and the way he'd said it.... 

It had touched him, because he had identified with it. But he would not allow an easy victory. Nor would he simply allow events to take the path the other assumed they would. He was no woman. If Mikhail wanted sex, it would be sex on Feilong's terms. If he couldn't handle that, then that was it. 

He stood abruptly. He'd wasted enough time. His eyes strayed to the box, and he closed it with a little regret. But there would be time to look at it more closely later that evening. Still, his fingertips played over the smooth surface. They tingled, and he closed his fist to make them stop.

Enough. He would control himself, and control events, and control this relationship. It was the only way. 

He turned his back on his desk and strode from the room.

 

\--

 

Saturday, 8:15 am.

 

That morning, sipping his tea in bed, he tried to gather his thoughts. It was difficult. Fragments of erotic dreams kept intruding. And most of them involved yellow heads of hair.

Yoh entered the room with a small package, interrupting the memory of yet another one of those fragments. Feilong almost blushed. What the hell had gotten into him lately?

He snapped a little more than usual. "What is it? You know I don't like to be disturbed until after breakfast."

Yoh's face remained blank and calm. "Tao asked me to drop this off, since he was occupied." He held the package out.

Feilong examined it, wondering what this one would hold. 

"It's free from any explosives or booby traps, Master Feilong. I checked it myself. It's only a—"

"Did I ask you to tell me what it was? Give it here. And go get a haircut. I won't have a guard that can't see out of one eye because his hair is covering it."

Yoh blinked. "Yes sir. I'll get that done this morning." His face was slightly puzzled as he left the room.

Too bad. Although Feilong wasn't really sure he wanted to see _two_ glum eyes staring back at him from that face.

Feilong shoved thoughts of his dour guard from his mind and focused on the package before him. It was wrapped in blue patterned silk, tied elaborately with a white silk ribbon. He pulled the ribbon free and let the silk slide aside to reveal the contents, a small flat box.

He opened it, and was not surprised to find jewelry. A pendent, or perhaps it could be called a charm. It might have been used for either in some tourist shop. Although while they might have carried a copy, those shops didn't carry such high-grade gold, nor such workmanship. 

He stared at it thoughtfully before setting it aside for the note that had lain underneath it. His breath caught at the words within.

 

_Will you wear this tonight, Feilong, and meet me halfway? And then, perhaps, you'll finally understand how only our joining will make our happiness complete._

_Mikhail_

 

Feilong read the note several times. It was corny. But he thought it the most genuine thing Mikhail had ever said to him. He picked up the pendant and let his fingertips trace the character upon it. Or rather, the half character, for it was broken down the middle. Happiness, it would read, when joined with its other half. He began to yearn for it.

Was it possible? Was it within his grasp? Or was he being a fool again, letting someone use him, and searching for something that wasn't there?

He looked at the small bit of gold in his hand, and his fingers curled around it. If there was a chance, he wasn't going to let it slip away.

 

\--

 

He stood in his closet late that after noon examining his choices, and cursed softly. He should have asked where they were going. As he stood there, Tao entered and pulled some clothes from shelves and hangars and began handing them to him. Dark grey pleated trousers, dark blue cashmere v-neck pullover, a patterned cotton shirt to go under it.

"Tao?"

"He called while you were in here and just said 'Have him wear something casual and comfortable to walk in. He also said he'd be picking you up two hours early, because it would take some time to get where you were going. Then he hung up."

_Where we're going? Two hours?_

He gave in. The man was allowed to cultivate a little mystery on this date. It wasn't as if Feilong couldn't handle himself, wherever they went. "Very well. I'll go with your choices to save time. You're sure he said nothing more?"

Tao gave him that look that said _"Do you not trust me to do my job?"_ , and he sighed and began removing his clothes. At least with Mikhail he had a chance of winning an argument.

 

\--

 

They went across the bay toward Kowloon and drove up into the mountains. There was a conservatory there, Kadoorie Farm. He'd been there once as a child. He didn't recall any place to eat in the vicinity, but it had been a while. Maybe there was some development recently with some restaurants.

But it was the farm itself they turned into, and they continued up the mountain without pausing at any of the visitors' buildings below, taking a road which said "No Vehicles Beyond this Point without Permission".

He turned to look pointedly at his companion. "Mikhail, do you have permission to be doing this?"

Mikhail glanced over, amused. "Afraid we'll get yelled at? Don't worry. Large donations buy a lot of permission."

More money spent on him. 

He let his eyes run down Mikhail's body. He'd never seen him in anything other than those horrid white suits. But today he wore tan khakis, a light blue button-down, and a brown leather jacket. It looked good on him.

"See something you like?"

His eyes flew up to Mikhail's face, but the man was looking at the road. He sniffed. "I was thinking how grateful I was that you put away the Kentucky Fried Chicken look this evening."

"Kentucky...? What??"

"Those awful white suits. Are you trying to wear them out before Labor Day? Really Mikhail, this look suits you much more. Or if a suit, perhaps black pinstripe. I can introduce you to my tailor if you'd like."

Mikhail glanced at him. "I'll keep to my own style, thank you. But if the white annoys you, I'll throw them out. I didn't think you were paying that much attention to my body."

"Only because it was an eyesore."

That got him a short laugh. "It pains you to compliment me, doesn't it?"

"Not at all. I just have to work at it, since there's so little that deserves it."

"I love that about you, you know, your biting sarcasm. You wield so many weapons, and all of them well."

That silenced him, and he turned his head to the window so his heated cheeks couldn't be seen. He watched the scenery as it passed by. So much of it mirrored Hong Kong, cultivated and elegantly beautiful on one side, and wild and lushly beautiful on the other. He didn't realize it reflected himself as well.

They finally pulled into a small parking area. "We walk the rest of the way." Mikhail glanced down. "I'm glad to see Tao gave you sturdy shoes."

He was going to have a talk with Tao when he got home. "This is certainly the most interesting date I've ever been on. You get points for originality."

Mikhail's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Do I get to exchange the points for something I want later?"

Feilong sniffed. "Yes, earn enough and you get to keep your life." 

Mikhail simply laughed and led the way onto a path heading into the hills.

 

\--

 

They didn't exactly walk with a goal in mind, though Feilong could tell they had one. Mikhail stopped here and there along the path to show Feilong some of the more interesting plants and animals they passed, and occasionally just to take in the view.

"I didn't realize you were so interested in nature. You appear to be a man who prefers civilization."

"I'm not so simple as that, Feilong. I do love the trappings of civilization, as you say. But places like this remind you of who you really are." Mikhail stopped to face him. "It's why I wanted us to spend time here this evening. We left the artifice below. Come, I especially wanted you to see this place."

The sun was low in the sky when he was led to the edge of a meadow on the side of the hill. Mikhail took his hand and pulled him out among the flowers. There was a multi-colored eruption about them as hundreds of butterflies took to the air, fluttering around them like torn pieces of bright tissue on a breeze. 

Feilong held out his arm, and several landed. He felt more upon his hair. A pleased laugh burst from him. "They think I'm a flower."

His eyes turned to Mikhail's then dropped before the raw emotion he saw within them. He gently shook the butterflies free. "Perhaps we should continue on..."

Mikhail's hand rose to remove one of the more stubborn insects, then brushed his cheek. "I'm pleased to hear you say that, because I have no intention of stopping."

Something primitive in Feilong responded to this. The surroundings were beginning to get to him. His eyes rose again in challenge. "You'll stop if I wish to stop." 

But he didn't want to. He took a step forward. They weren't touching, but he could still feel the heat from the Russian's body. "And if I wish..." He leaned forward, tilting his head up slightly. He was tall for a Chinese, but not as tall as the Westerner. Such ridiculous thoughts, he mused, as his lips brushed over Mikhail's.

And then he found himself in an embrace that wouldn't allow thought, both of them lost in the kiss, both vying for dominance on some basic level. They finally broke apart and stared at one another, breathing heavily.

After a minute, Feilong spoke first. "This may not work. We may be more alike than we thought."

"This will work." Mikhail's eyes left no room for any other answer. "I'll have you, on any terms. If you want me on my back, I'll give myself to you that way."

He couldn't believe he was hearing a man say this. To demean himself so. His face must have betrayed his shock, because Mikhail smiled slightly. 

"Feilong, I love you. When I make love to you, and I will, it won't demean either of us but will be a thing of beauty. This is nothing like the other relationships you've had. When two people make love, both are uplifted by the experience."

"I'm not a woman that I need to hear these words!"

"I don't mistake you for one. I enjoy women, and own several." Feilong snorted. "But you, you're so very male, so powerful and aggressive, so intelligent. You're like a sleek tiger, but I wouldn't try to own you or cage you or control you. I want you by my side as a companion, tamed only to my presence, willing to share in all my pleasures as an equal, a mate. But always remaining wild and free."

So tempting. Mikhail's eyes weren't crafty as usual, but shone as he spoke. He seemed to believe what he was saying. But that wasn't the question for Feilong anymore.

His eye was caught by a small blue butterfly, still flapping about aimlessly while most of its brethren had already settled back onto flowers. He watched as it struggled to find something else, something that perhaps didn't exist, working itself to exhaustion for what in the end was probably nothing. Sometimes he felt like that, like he was chasing dreams that could never be real. Sometimes though, he wanted what all the other butterflies had, what was right in front of him. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe, it was even wise.

Mikhail had fallen silent, and was just watching him. Feilong looked at him from the corner of his eye and smiled a little. "You were right to bring me here, I think. Something about this place... it strips you bare. It makes you reevaluate things." He held his hand out to Mikhail. "We have dinner waiting somewhere ahead, do we not? Among other things?"

Mikhail's eyes had softened and warmed as Feilong spoke. "Yes, among other things." And he took Feilong's hand and led him from the butterfly garden. 

Feilong glanced back to see the blue butterfly finally land on a tall fuzzy yellow weed. He almost choked with laughter as he glanced up at the Russian, his hair now gold in the setting sun.

Mikhail looked down at him, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He amended himself. "I'll tell you someday. Let's eat. I'm starving. And I can't wait for dessert." Feeling young, he stuck his tongue out at Mikhail, who was amazed into laughter.

There was a warm glow in his chest. He recalled the pendent hanging there, the most important thing he'd worn tonight. Happiness might not be so elusive after all. His hand squeezed the strong fingers he was holding, and he received an answering squeeze back. It just might be right in his grasp.

 

 

~end~


End file.
